Loving Silence
by Chasuka
Summary: Hurrah! Jou/Seto holiday FLUFF! ...with a lousy title! Shounen-ai fluff. And lots of it. Rated for a bit of coarse language (most of it in the AN...) - first fic in -ages-, I'd appreciate feedback!


Loving Silence

A.N.: Ho ho ho! …auuugh, this took me FOREVER, just cos it's my first YGO fic and I had the hardest time keeping them in character. Which I didn't. Like, at all. Not to mention it was really, really hard to start for some reason or other. And I couldn't remember Drake's real name – I. AM. SO. SORRY. X.X And the –title-! –twitch!—It took me ages, and I STILL don't like it. …there you have it, my traditional All My Writing Is Bullshit rant. Happy Holidays.

To any of muh Utahn friends that may be reading this – YES, it is shounen ai, and YES, I am a Jou/Kaiba shipper. Get over it, girls. =P …please don't hurt me, Wendy. X.o

Disclaimer: I do not own YGO. This saddens me. But maybe Santa'll bring me Jou-kun for Christmas. …hey, it could happen. I've been good. –decides to run away before Nep can crack her over the head…--

Warnings: FLUFF!!! o.o Lots and lots of fluuuff! Shounen-ai fluuuuuff! …oh for the love of God, I've written a sickeningly happy-squishy fluff-fest. I have disgraced myself. –off to commit seppuku—

I've never been much of a Christmas person. At all. I always found it highly overrated; people running around like chickens with their heads cut off, squawking condescendingly about the true meaning of the holiday and the spirit of giving, all while attempting to prove their aptitude and dominance of the occasion buy out-buying all their friends and family. It seemed so superficial. As if the actual spirit of generosity, kindness, and love – all the things that reportedly give us our humanity – could be represented in vats upon vats of chocolate, old men with beer bellies trolling about malls and grocery stores in ridiculous red suits, and gigantic plastic snowflakes. Ridiculous. 

For some reason, though, I felt the cynicism draining out of me as I lay on Jounouchi's couch, staring at the small, but well-decorated, Christmas tree in the corner. My jacket lay slung over a chair in the "kitchen" – basically an extension of the room I was in now, equipped with a sink and a fridge. Jou's apartment wasn't large, just a few rooms, and positively paled in comparison to my home, but it was nice. Warm, the white lights strung across the Christmas tree casting shadows across my face and big, fat flakes of snow drifting gently outside, visible through the little window to my right, it was homey, almost. If you managed to ignore the dirty laundry littering the floor. 

I stretched slightly, wondering for what had to be the umpteenth time what I was doing there. It had been nearly ten when he had called, practically demanding that I come over. I had smirked and taunted him over the phone, unwilling to show until he asked me politely, like a good doggy. He caved in the end – I figured he must have really wanted me to be there for some reason or other, since he hates giving into me and presenting submission. That was just the way our relationship worked though, if you could call it a relationship; an almost constant battle for dominance that I always won. So I humored him, gracing the cramped apartment with my presence at ten thirty on a Christmas Eve.

"Oi, Mutt, you dragged me out here – in killer traffic, mind. I'd advise you to get out here so we can get whatever you want over with and I can get home," I called out in the silence, mock irritation weaving throughout my tone. 

"Patience is a virtue, Se-to," the blonde called from his bedroom, drawing out my name and evidently taking amusement in the fact that he was one of the few people I would allow to use it without attempting to sue. I snorted slightly and rolled my eyes. 

In all truth, I preferred Jounouchi's home over my own. He was a young photographer, just starting out in the professional field, and didn't have much of a salary to brag of; breathing room was hard to come by in his little shack, for lack of a better adjective, but it had a soul to it. Something about it made you relax and feel welcome. My manor was luxurious, yes, but it was cold and lifeless, a feeling that had doubled since my younger brother had moved out a few months earlier. Seventeen, he had felt the need to "spread his wings and fly" – yes, in that precise cliché. He stopped by home at least four times a week, of course; it's an unwritten law that adolescent males cannot cook a decent meal worth a shit. And when you live on a diet prepared by an extremely well paid live-in world-class chef, it's hard to immediately drop down to mac-n-cheese and instant ramen. 

Still, though. Even with the staff and my younger brother's near-constant visits, the mansion felt so empty. Lonely, really. A few years ago, it wasn't something I would have minded, but hey. Things change.

It was then Jounouchi made his grand entrance, yawning slightly and scratching his head. I raised an eyebrow, sitting up. "What kept you? Get your hair stuck in your collar or something?"

He snorted appreciatively. "Y'know, that never gets old, no matter how many times you say it. Always good for a laugh."

"I'm glad I amuse you so."

He flopped unceremoniously beside me, fixing me with a look I could only assume meant he was perturbed with me for some reason or other. The look I gave him in return clearly requested elaboration, and his reply was to grunt in my direction.

I raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at the edges of my lips. "I'm afraid I need subtitles, Mutt. I don't speak Neanderthal."

He threw a pillow at my head and pouted. "You weren't at Anzu's Christmas party yesterday."

Honestly, he looked to be about five years old when he did that. "I'm not much of a party person. I assumed you'd clue in on that fact. Or is that giving you too much credit?"

"Still," he griped, glaring solidly at me, "you should have come. I had something to give to you at the party, but nooo… you have to make me go to all the trouble of cleaning up my place and dragging you out here on Christmas Eve…"

My eyebrows rose involuntarily. "You cleaned? Jesus. This place must be a black hole when you don't bother."

"Do you want your present or not?"

"My deepest and most sincere apologies for my heartless interruption of your 'Jounouchi, Saint of the Holidays' schpiel."

"You're forgiven." With that, my significant other thrust a medium-sized rectangular gift – bearing a lot of resemblance to a rather large book - into my lap. I blinked, perplexed; I had been expecting something a little more blatantly romantic, such as the little platinum ring bearing a tiny flame swordsman engraving and perfectly cut ruby that currently shone on my lover's right hand. 

"Am I to open it now?" I queried, fingering the parcel.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "No, I just thought I'd taunt you with it for a few hours till morning. Yes, open it!"

With a shrug of my shoulders, I removed the wrapping paper, and blinked, my confusion deepening.

"A photo album? I'm touched. Truly."

His irritation all but doubled at my reply. "Just look in the damn thing, would ya?"

I did so, and my breath caught in my throat.

Photos. Hundreds of them. Of everyone I cared for, ranging in time from our early high school days to last week in the park. They weren't anything particularly special, just assorted shots of our everyday lives, the majority of them taken by Jounouchi; Anzu dancing, Yugi and Mokuba laughing, Honda doing something stupid. There were shots of every real get-together we'd done over the years, including the time Bakura had gotten drunk at a New Year's party with Drake and the pair of them had attempted to snort pixie stix, forcing my younger brother to collapse in heaves of laughter. I was even in a few of them. Sulking, smirking, or fighting with Jounouchi, typically. 

At the tail end of the book, on the last page, there was a single photo that had been recently taken while my lover and I had been shopping. Standing in the middle of the store, Jounouchi had found a sweatshirt with a little pair of dog-ears on the hood, pulled it on, threw one arm around my neck, and taken a picture of the both of us with his spare hand and ever-present camera. I hadn't been pleased at the time, but the memory quite suddenly became one of the shining, treasured moments in my life. 

Just below the photo, in Jounouchi's handwriting, read a small piece of paper not much bigger than a post-it note:

            Smile, Seto, for you are loved.

                                    -Your family

"Well?" He asked after a moment, anxiety tingeing the edges of his voice. "Do you like it?"

I looked up, and I smiled. 

"Thank you…" I whispered, barely able to speak around the unfamiliar knot of emotion in my throat. "Thank you so much, Jounouchi…"

He grinned, crawling over to place himself in my lap. Gently setting down the priceless treasure I had been handed, I wrapped my arms around his waist and stretched out on the couch. He stared so lovingly at me I could almost feel myself beginning to blush, not something I did often. Something about his eyes. Shining gold in the gentle light of Christmas Eve, something about them made me believe him when he said he loved me, despite the fights and the sarcasm and the constant misunderstandings. Something in them told me I had found someone who would humor me, challenge me, and read between the lines to pick out the true meaning in my words and actions. I saw home in his eyes.

Home. Finally. 

"I love you, Seto," he sighed, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

"I love you too," I whispered back. 

He blinked and looked up, a mixture of surprise and disbelief written across his face. He had never heard me say those words before. He knew I did; I would show it occasionally, and my declarations of how irritating he was or how much he frustrated me had become sheerly bravado, space-fillers. He knew just how I felt, which was why he stuck around, but that didn't change the fact that I was too frightened to say it aloud. I smiled, and his expression slowly melted into a grin, joy radiating from his loving golden eyes. He sighed, nuzzling back down into my chest, and we lay there, the body warmth of the other rolling over us, soaking in the undisputed holiness of the night. Silently, I offered the deepest thanks my soul could possibly give to any God that was listening, whomever or whatever had blessed me so. In that dingy apartment, with a tiny and almost silly-looking Christmas tree in the corner, I was home.

Finally. 


End file.
